


Sherlock One-Shots

by Writers_Blogck



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, One-Shots, Reader-Insert, Sherlock - Freeform, Song fics, reader - Freeform, sherlock bbc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 18:01:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18783313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writers_Blogck/pseuds/Writers_Blogck
Summary: Random One-Shots I write for the BBC show Sherlock.





	1. Alone you Breathe (Old Version)

  
**Warning(s):**  Suicide  
**Title:**  Alone you Breathe  
**Pairing:**  Sherlock Holmes x Reader  
**Fandom:**  Sherlock (BBC)  
**Word Count:**  751  
  
-[Song:](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u4_WVFWaLsQ)  _Alone you Breathe_  by Savatage **  
**  
**_You were never one for waiting, still, I always thought you would wait for me._  
** _And have you from your dreams awakened and from where you are, what do you see?_  
  
    "What are saying, John?" Sherlock had to have heard his friend wrong. What he said couldn't be true. It just  _couldn't_ be true!  
  
    "Sherlock, you heard what I said. (Y/N) killed herself because she couldn't deal with you being gone. She thought you were dead Sherlock, we all did! Look what it drove her to!"   
  
    Sherlock felt his eyes water but he quickly turned so John couldn't see him. Everything sunk in at that very moment. (Y/N) was gone and it was his fault. You would never come back and it was all his fault! If he would have told you! If- If Molly, Mycroft, anyone had told you that he wasn't dead then it would have never come to this!  
  
    "John." He took in a deep breath before continuing, "Where is she buried?"  
  
**_Which of us is now in exile? Which in need of amnesty?_  
** _Are you now but an illusion? In my mind alone you breathe._  
  
    Sherlock stood in front of your grave, his hands behind his back. He had been standing there silently for what felt like hours. He hadn't spoken, he had just stared at your grave. He wondered where you were. Was there such thing as a heaven or where you now just an illusion inside his mind?  
  
    He liked to think it was the first one because he couldn't bear the thought that you were gone. That you were gone because of him.   
  
_You believed in things that I will never know._  
  
    Sherlock remembered an old memory when everything was the way it should be  
  
    *Flashback*  
  
    "Sherlock!" You came bouncing into the living room and plopped down on the couch.   
  
    Sherlock looks over at you, his face emotionless. "What is it (Y/N)?" He asked.  
  
    "I was wondering if you would like to go and get chips later. John said he had a date so he won't be coming home till late tonight."   
  
    "I suppose that we could go later-" He said but was cut off when you moved forward and rested your hand on his check. You rubbed your thumb under his eye and smiled when you were triumphant.  
  
    "(Y/N), what are you doing?"   
  
    "There was an eyelash, her blow." You moved your hand close towards his mouth.  
  
    "Why would I do anything like that?" He looked at you with those icy blue eyes. You giggled before explaining it to him.  
  
    "Well Sherlock, it says that you can make wishes on eyelashes like you can on ladybugs. Come on! Blow! Make a wish~!" You bounced up and down on the couch as you waited.  
  
    He sighed and blew out of his mouth, his eyes shutting. You giggled once again and wrapped your arms around his neck. He moved his arm so it was wrapped loosely around your waist.  
  
    "What did you wish for? Wait! Don't tell me! If you tell me, then it won't come true." You rested your head on his shoulder.  
  
    "Fine, then I won't tell you." He smirked because he knew that you wanted to know.   
  
    "I hope your wish comes true but I bet it will." You smile up at him and he does the same.  
  
    "I am sure it will."  
  
    *Flashback ended*  
  
**_You were out there drowning but it never showed. 'Til inside a rain swept night, you just let go._  
** __**You've thrown it all away! And I will never see the ending to the play. The grand design, the final line, what was meant to be.**  
  
    Sherlock sighed and knelt down so he could put a hand on your tombstone. It was black and glossy, kinda like the one he had. He felt tears build up in his eyes and this time he didn't stop them from falling down his cheeks. The warm liquid falling against the soft ground where you were buried.   
  
    He cried because it was his fault that you were dead. He cried because his wish would never come true. His wish that you two would become more than friends. He cried because nothing was the way it was supposed to be. He cried because you were gone.  
  
    He cried because his only true love was dead and gone. And it was his fault.  
   
                                                                 


	2. Stay Awake ( Brother!Sherlock Holmes x Teen!Reader )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): None  
> Title: Stay Awake  
> Pairing: Older Brother!Sherlock Holmes x Teen!Sister!Reader (Family)  
> Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)  
> Word Count: 1,095

“(Y/N), you need to be going to bed....” You knew that voice. It wasn't the voice of your brother but the voice of his flatmate. John stood above you, looking down at you. He had his hands on his hips and you had to keep from laughing at how feminine he looked. He was acting like your mother.  
  


“You know that I don't need much sleep, John.” You looked up at him, your head numbing slightly as the blood rushed to your cranium. You were lying upside down on the couch, a Rubix cube in your hand. You had already solved it five times and each time you seemed to solve it quicker than the last. You then went to go and ask John if he would mess it up again. He sighed but did as you asked. Since it was such a trivial task, he would do it since you were only fifteen. Now if Sherlock asked, it would be a different story.  
  


“You are still a growing girl, (N/N). You need to sleep so that your body can grow.” He said, noticing the bored expression that was on your face. It seems that you had solved the cube once again and had to throw it by your backpack a few feet away.  
  


“I'm perfectly fine with my height, John. I would be fine with staying this height. Who knows, if I continue to grow I might be as tall as Sherlock. No one wants to date a girl who is as tall as an oak.” You said, your (e/c) eyes peeking out from under your bangs.  
  


“It is 4:30 in the morning, you need to go to sleep,” John said. Once you opened your mouth to protest, he stopped you by waving a hand. “No, just stay there. I'll get your brother, he'll do something about this.” He said and walked away. It wasn't that he was annoyed with you. He had just gotten home from work and he was tired. He didn't want to have to deal with a Holmes.  
  


“It's not like Sherlock will be able to put me to sleep.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked up at the ceiling from your spot down on the floor. You heard footsteps and by the sounds of it, it was only your brother. John must have gone to his bedroom to sleep. You felt a bit bad for always pushing his nerves but you couldn't help it! It was just in your nature, just like it was for Sherlock!  
  


“(Y/N), I hear that you have not gone to bed yet,” Sherlock said as he sat down on the couch. You felt the extra weight and scooted over a bit to give him more room.

“No, I am asleep right now. I'm just sleeping with my eyes open and am moving around. I'm an eye opened sleepwalker. Did you know that?” You looked up at your brother, amusement gleaming in your eyes.  
  


“Of course you are. Now, come with me. We need to get you to your room and into your bed.” Sherlock said, grabbing your hand. You flopped your other arm down, trying to become impossible to move.  
  


“No, I can't! There is an elephant sitting on my chest and I can't move! You have to go on without me! Tell Mycroft that I think that he is the queen.” You said in an exasperated tone. Sherlock sighed and tugged on your arm gently, not wanting to harm you.  
  


“(Y/N), get up right now or so help me, I will carry you to your room.” You wouldn't doubt that Sherlock could do that. He was stronger than he looked.  
  


“The comment about Mycroft didn't even give me a little more time?” You asked, pouting and sitting up. Most of your (h/c) was either sticking up in odd angles or it was out in front of your eyes.  
  


“I agree with you about Mycroft being a queen but that still doesn't change the fact that you need to sleep,” Sherlock said. You didn't move, just crossed your arms over your chest in a defiant way. You really could act like such a child at times. “Fine (Y/N), I warned you.” With that Sherlock bent down and picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder. You were pretty light so it was easy for him to carry you.  
  


“Hey! No! John! Save me! Sherlock is going to use me for an experiment! He's going to test a new chemical on me and I’ll grow a third eye and a tail! Do you really want to have to deal with that?!” You shouted. To your disappointment, no one came. John learned to block out what you said, knowing that you were normally never in danger.  
  


“Stop being a drama queen, you are just as bad as your brother.” He said as he began to walk towards your room. You lived with your brother because as your parents got older, it got harder for them to take care of you. Mycroft said that he was too busy to watch you twenty-four/seven so he had sent you to live with Sherlock. Sherlock didn't mind, you were his little sister and you two got along in most cases, well.

“As bad as my brother? Are you talking about yourself? You must be because Mycroft is as big of a drama queen as you are.” You said, beginning to poke Sherlock's back. He fixed you so you were hanging a bit farther down as if you were going to fall.

 

“Be careful what you say, I am the one carrying you.” He said. You could just tell that he was smirking even though you were unable to see it.

 

“You wouldn't dare!”

 

“Oh, but I would. We have a doctor in the house so he could fix you up. Do not say things that you know are false, (N/N)” You huffed in anger and kept poking Sherlock's back. Soon you were in your room. Sherlock was glad that you were already wearing your night clothes as he tossed you down onto your bed.

 

“You are going to go to sleep, I will be in to check on you. That means no phone or laptop, do you understand?” Sherlock said, looking down at you as you righted yourself so you were under your covers.

 

“Yes, I understand,  _mother._ ” You stuck your tongue out before flopping down on your side. There went your all-nighter.


	3. Red Riding Hood ( Sherlock Holmes x Reader )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): None  
> Title: Red Riding Hood  
> Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader  
> Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)  
> Word Count: 1,456

  
  
_There it was again, that bright red coat. There it was, running right past me as if it had somewhere else that it should be. Maybe it did, yet I have seen it over five-time today and each time it had been running. What is it running from?_  Sherlock thought, his eyes following the coat as it ran down the street. Well, it didn't run, the person who was wearing it was running. Obviously, coats can't run, that is a stupid thought to think and it makes people waste time, thinking about something as unrealistic as coats running.  
  
"Sherlock? Are you alright?" John asked, shaking Sherlock's shoulder slightly to try and make him focus on the work at hand. They were standing in front of a body that Sherlock was supposed to be deducing. Yet, it seemed that he got a bit distracted by something. John peered around him, trying to see if he saw the same thing that Sherlock did. He squinted his eyes, "Did you see something?"  
  
"Uh? Oh, no, everything is fine." Sherlock quickly turned around so he was facing the body. He began to pace around it and bent down. After only a minute, he began to speak, "It was the husband or well ex-husband, he had killed her. As you can see, the bruises around her neck show that she had been strangled and the bruises are too large to be female hands. There is a mark around her left ring finger, showing that she was married but took off her ring. She also has multiple bruises and other injuries that aren't fresh like the ones around her neck, showing that the husband hit her. He may have drank so you may want to look around some bars. She chose to leave him and he didn't like that. He tracked her down to this alleyway and killed her, leaving the body here. Now if you will excuse me, I must take my leave." Sherlock nodded toward everyone before quickly turning around and walking away.  
  
"Wait! Sherlock!" John yelled, sighing as he ran after his best friend who could really be annoying at times, "What are you doing? Where are you going? Didn't you have plans tonight?"   
  
"Oh...Yes...John, cancel them for me. I have a more important appointment to attend to than that." Sherlock said, glancing back at the short man who was getting redder and redder in the face. It looked as if he had eaten something spicy and was inside a cartoon, though Sherlock didn't think that. He didn't watch cartoons anymore, to bad for the brain.  
  
"What?! You're going to tell me that you found something more important than having dinner with your parents?! They're your parents for god's sake, Sherlock!" John said, throwing his hands up in the air.  
  
"Well, yes I have John. Reschedule it, I don't care. They can just have dinner with Mycroft, I really didn't want to see him anyway. We'll just fight and that will make our mother sad and then our father will scold us, it is just a repeating cycle. Just make sure you tell them that I am not coming and do try to make it sound sweet. I don't need Mycroft rubbing this in." Sherlock said and with that, he began to walk again once again. He got away quickly, his long legs taking big steps easily. He looked around, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the sea of people all around.  _Now...Where could that red coat have gone? If it wants my attention, it will surely come again. So all I have to do it wait._  
  
So that was what Sherlock did. He walked over toward a bench and sat down. He pulled out his phone and noticed that he had three messages, all from Mycroft.  _John must have already told him about tonight. No matter, that isn't of importance now..._  Sherlock sighed, stuffing his phone back into his pocket before he looked around. Women having an affair with a younger man, a man fighting over custody for his children, a pair of orphaned twins walking with their new mother, none of these people were the girl in the coat of red. As time went by, Sherlock kept deducing the people as they walked by yet the girl in the red coat didn't show. He was starting to get his doubts and was ready to leave when he saw a speck of red in the corner of his eye. He turned around to see a woman standing there, wearing a red coat just like before. The way you stood, your hair, everything pointed to you being the women he saw before. He quickly stood up and made his way over to you, stopping when he was right in front of you.  
  
"Have you been following me?" Sherlock asked, a small triumphant smirk present on his face as he looked down at you. You were shorter than him, having (h/c) hair that seemed to sway effortlessly in the wind. Your (e/c) eyes sparkled with curiosity as you looked up at him, tilting your head to the side once you heard his question.  
  
"Well, I wouldn't say I was following you, just conveniently being in the same place at the right time. You really intrigue me, Sherlock Holmes, and I'd like to learn more about you. I want to see if you are a wolf in sheep's clothing, like many says. I don't believe them though, everything you read in newspapers is rubbish. They never tell you the whole truth." You said, smiling as you stood on your heels.  
  
"A wolf in sheep's clothing? Wouldn't that mean that you are supposed to be afraid of me then, as if I may 'gobble' you up? You know, curiosity did kill the cat, and since you are curious about me, you may come to regret ever trying to find out more about me." Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest as he started to deduce you. The problem was that he couldn't get much out of you, just that you lived alone in your flat and that you were a very curious girl.  
  
"Hm? What do you mean by that? Why would you gobble me up?" You tilt your head to the side, wondering what he meant before continuing to speak, "I know I won't regret my decision, I want to know more. A bit of curiosity in your life makes it more worthwhile. If you didn't have curiosity then you would have a very boring life. From what I hear, you don't have a very boring life, Sherlock."  
  
"You are little red riding hood, going to see your grandmother. I may just try and 'gobble' you up and you won't have a huntsman to save you." Sherlock said, acting as if he was trying to push you away. It didn't make sense why he would be trying, maybe that was just how he acted around new people. Doesn't want to let them close just to get his heart broken...  
  
"I always thought that was a very grim and dark fairy-tale, didn't you Mr.Holmes? They slice open the wolf's belly to get them out and then they stick rocks inside before throwing the wolf into the river. But, I suppose all fairy-tales do have a dark side to them..." You mumble the last part before shrugging, "I don't mind fearing that you are going to eat me, I like living on the edge."   
  
"Fine, if you really want to try to get and now me, come back to this bench tomorrow at three o'clock. If you do not show, I will know that you don't want to know more about me and probably made the right choice." Sherlock said, putting his hands back in his pockets as it was getting colder out.   
  
"Sounds like a deal! I'll see you right here tomorrow at three o'clock. I promise that I will be here, there is no doubt in my mind to make me stay home and miss this opportunity. Goodbye, Mr.big bad wolf~!" You winked toward Sherlock before walking away, turning a corner so you were out of the consulting detective's view.   
  
Sherlock stood there, looking at the place where you just turned. You really were an interesting girl, to say the least. He began to think about tomorrow and what may happen between the two of you. At least it would be an interesting experience tomorrow whether it be a good one or bad. He sighed and one last thought crossed his mind, shocking even himself. Instead of being the big bad wolf, maybe he could be your huntsmen...        


	4. Jealousy ( Sherlock Holmes x Reader x John Watson )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Hinted Lesolly, Lestrade x Molly only because I didn't want Molly to be super sad about Sherlock getting a girl.  
> Title: Jealousy  
> Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader x John Watson  
> Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)  
> Word Count: 1,648

  
                                                       
  
  
Sherlock knew that there was something wrong with him He never felt this way, but every time he looked at you talking to John, it came again. Sherlock knew he wasn't sick because the feeling the only ever came up when he was around you. It was a pain in his stomach as if he ate something bad...He just was unable to put his finger on what was wrong with him.  
  
At this very moment, Sherlock was sitting in the kitchen, looking through a microscope. He heard you giggle and peeked out to notice that you were sitting next to John on the couch and he was showing you something...The two of you had been growing closer ever since you had started to help them with some of their cases.  
  
The feeling came again, a low pain in his stomach. It wasn't really pain though, was it? It was a nagging feeling as if you forgot something and you were worrying about it. Wait, that wasn't the feeling, was it? No, no, it couldn't be. This emotion was similar to worry but it was different...It was similar but not the same...  
  
"What is so funny?" Sherlock asked, trying to go back to looking at the specimen under his microscope, but it was hard when he kept trying to focus on you...  
  
"Oh, nothing really. John was just telling me a  funny story about when he was younger and was in the army. A man was yelling at him and he kept giving back all of these sarcastic comments..." You giggled as you spoke, moving your hand to cover your mouth. John was sitting beside you and he was smiling, enjoying that he was able to tell someone these stories and have them listen.  
  
Sherlock made a little grunt noise, to notify you that he had heard what you said. For some odd reason, he really didn't want you to be sitting that close to John. What was wrong with him?! You were filling up his mind and making everything jumbled up. He couldn't think straight!  
  
Quickly, Sherlock stood up, the chair he was sitting in falling to the floor. He didn't even glance down at the chair before he rushed out of the house, grabbing his coat and saying something like 'Going out' or something along those lines. It was hard to tell with how quickly he got up and left.   
  
You looked over toward John and tilted your head to the side. Had you said something to trigger that to happen? You didn't think so but you didn't know Sherlock as well as John did so you looked to him for answers. All John did was shrug and get up slowly, letting out a sigh.  
  
"I suppose I should go and find him. When he goes out like this, it normally doesn't lead to good things. Stay here, we won't be long." John said, grabbing his jacket before slowly walking out of the door and leaving you alone in the flat of 221b.  
  
What was wrong with him?! Maybe he was sick, something that he couldn't find. No, he knew that wasn't the case, but what was it? Maybe he had been poisoned...No, the symptoms didn't fit being poisoned... Sherlock sighed loudly before shoving his hands in his pockets. He hated feeling like this, not knowing what was going on. He almost always knew what was going on so he hated when he didn't.  
  
He had to know what this emotion was! He had to ask someone but who? Who could he ask about this? Normally he would ask John, but something didn't feel right when he was around John. He didn't want to ask the shorter man about you..No, that feeling came back when he was around John and you were mentioned or were present. So, who could he ask..?  
  
                                                                                                       ~  
  
"So, what was it that you needed me for?" The young woman asked, taking the gloves off of her hands as she turned to look at the man who she fancied. She didn't fancy him as much now, having her eyes on another, but she would always fancy him just a bit...I mean, if he asked her to go on a date, she wouldn't decline.    
  
Yes, Sherlock Holmes had gone to Molly Hooper for help. He knew that she was good with emotions and she had offered to help him with anything that he needed. Well, he believed she could be a very helpful resource in finding out what was wrong with him...  
  
"Something is wrong with me. I feel as if I am sick but not sick at the same time. There is a nagging feeling in my stomach whenever I am around her and it won't go away. I get this nagging feeling when she is around John as well, but this feeling is a lot stronger and feels worse than when I'm just around her." Sherlock said, pacing around the room and running his hands through his curly black hair. Molly watched him, tilting his head to the side before a tiny smile made its way to her lips. She defiantly knew what was wrong with her friend.  
  
"Sherlock, does this feeling only come around when you are with her? I assume you are talking about (Y/N), right? That girl that has been helping you with some of your cases?" Molly said, cleaning up what she had just done.   
  
"Yes, now, what is wrong with me? How I do make this feeling go away? I don't care for it and it is making my mind go wild. I can't even go to my mind palace with her around. All I see is her and I can't get anything done. Do I need medicine, because I can get John to give them to me." Sherlock said quickly.  
  
"No Sherlock, you don't need medicine. You are in love and you keep feeling that emotion when you are around (Y/N). You love her and are jealous when she is around John. You want her to be yours and yours alone and so when she is around John, you are jealous that she is spending time with him and not you." Molly explained.  
  
Sherlock was in love? Was he really in love? Mycroft had always told him that caring was a weakness, but around you...He didn't believe that you were a weakness, just like he didn't think John was a weakness...  
  
"So, how do I make this emotion go away?" Sherlock said, already grabbing his jacket and getting ready to leave. He wanted this feeling to be gone and he was going to do it right now.  
  
"Just tell her how you feel.." Molly said, smiling as she watched Sherlock leave. Yes, she fancied this man but she wouldn't mind if he got with someone else. She just wanted him to be happy with someone and even if it wasn't her, it was alright. She had her eyes on a certain D.I. anyway.  
  
Sherlock began to walk home, going over all the ways he could tell you...He never did stuff like this so this was all new to him. Was he suppose to take you to dinner or did he just tell you outright that he fancied you? He had never felt this way for anyone else, but maybe Irene. That wasn't like this those...That was fake and didn't mean much while this, this couldn't go wrong...  
  
"Sherlock, where have you been? I've been looking for you! I left (Y/N) at the flat because I said that I was going to find you and we would be back soon." John said, hurrying so he was walking beside his best friend. Sherlock, though, being Sherlock didn't hear him or he didn't care about what he had to say.  
  
"John, where is the nearest flower shop from here?" He asked, causing John to squint his eyes in confusion. What did Sherlock want with flowers? Was he going to give them to Mrs.Hudson or M- Oh...It clicked with John and he smiled before pointing down the road.  
  
"About a block or so down there is one. Go get her tiger." John laughed before hailing a cab so he could head back to 221b. Mrs.Hudson will be so pleased to know what Sherlock was doing...  
  
                                                                                             ~  
You sat on the couch, looking through a random book you picked up when you heard the door open. You looked up to see Sherlock standing there, a bunch of lilies in his hand. They were beautiful...  
  
"(Y/N), don't speak. Just let me talk and then you can talk, alright? These are for you. You have been filling up my mind palace and I can't get anything done with you around. That's not bad though, I think, Molly didn't think so anyway. She told me that I'm in love with you and I think I am. So, I wanted to tell you that and, well, I'm not sure where we are supposed to go from here..." Sherlock rambled on, making you giggle. He quickly looked up, afraid that he said something wrong but when he looked at you, you captured your lips in a sweet kiss.   
  
He slowly set the flowers down on the table beside him so he could wrap his arms around the small of your back. At first, he was nervous but soon he took control and kissed you back. The kiss lasted a few moments before you pulled away, a smile gracing your face.  
  
"I love you, Sherlock Holmes..."  
  
"I love you too..."  
  
As the two of you were standing there, staring into each other's eyes, you heard a squeal from downstairs. Guess John just told Mrs. Hudson what Sherlock was doing upstairs. 


	5. Kitty! ( Sherlock Holmes x Child!Reader )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Cute!  
> Title: Kitty!  
> Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Child!Reader (Family)  
> Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)  
> Word Count: 913

                                                 
  
The sound of soft footsteps were heard as a small child ran up the steps of 221b. It wasn't a client, it was Sherlock Holmes' young daughter. The story behind how he got a daughter wasn't really a simple one. When he was on a case, he had found a young girl who wouldn't say a word. She had to be only about three or four years but she should have been speaking then.   
  
Sherlock had somehow been put in charge of the girl, though luckily he had John to help him. He had grown attached to her over the time she lived with him and when he learned that her parents were dead (He has guessed they were from the start), he adopted her even though Mycroft had insisted that he didn't. He didn't listen, like always.  
  
The two of you had gotten rather close over the year that you had been living with Sherlock. At first, it was rather awkward, as Sherlock wasn't quite sure how to raise a little girl but it turned out that you were just as strange as he was. You loved odd things and were happy to help Sherlock with some of his more safer experiments. The two of you were a perfect pair.  
  
You had just come up from Mrs.Hudson's flat below yours, the one that you shared with your Sherlock. For some odd reason, you wouldn't call him father or uncle or something like that...No, he was  _your_ Sherlock. Mrs.Hudson and Mary thought that it was the cutest thing that you could do.  
  
"Sherlock, Sherlock!" You squealed in your tiny voice as you ran into the flat quickly, trying to find the tall man. The exact man you were looking for was sitting at the kitchen table, looking through his microscope. When he heard the footsteps, he slowly looked up and smiled as he turned to look at the young girl he had come to love.   
  
"What is it?" He asked before his eyes widened at what you held in your hands, "(Y/N), what is that?"  
  
"A kitty!" You extended your arms to show that you were holding a large gray cat that seemed to feel perfectly fine even though you were holding it in a rather uncomfortable position. The cat was overall cute, though it was missing it's front right leg, but that didn't seem to matter to you as you stood there with the little beast in your arms.  
  
"Why do you have a cat with you? Did you find him out on the streets?" Sherlock asked, even though he already knew the answer from the deduction he had done as soon as he saw you. He tried to limit what he said to you as John said you may not like him deducing everything that you brought to him or wanted him to guess something.  
  
"I found him outside and he was crying! So, I brought him inside and asked Mrs.Hudson for some water and food for him. After he finished eating and everything, Mrs.Hudson told me that I should go up and ask you if I could keep you. So, can I? Please, Sherlock!" You pouted and did your best puppy dog eyes. Normally he couldn't say no to you when you used your puppy dog eyes because you were just so darn cute!  
  
"I don't know.....Cats are a lot of work and they are normally not as kind as dogs. They don't do much; they like to lay around all the time. Wouldn't you rather have a dog instead of a cat?" Sherlock said, thinking over what it would mean to have a cat running around the flat. It would most likely ruin his experiments and then he would yell at it and then (Y/N) would get sad...  
  
"No, I don't want a dog. I want a kitty, this kitty. He is really nice and he will just follow me around wherever I go. He can be like my John! Please, Sherlock, please my Sherlock?" You replied, setting the cat down on the ground by your feet to prove that it stayed near you. The cat just stood there, walking around your legs slowly.  
  
Sherlock sighed as he realized you wouldn't be giving this up easily. I mean, you were alone most of the time and it would benefit you to have a pet to talk to and such. It did help Sherlock when he had Red-beard...  
  
"Fine, fine. I suppose you can keep this cat but he is going to be your responsibility." Sherlock said as he turned back around to look at his microscope. You squealed happily and hugged his legs, a huge grin on your face.  
  
"Thank you, thank you~!" You said, hopping up and down for a moment before hurrying back over toward the cat. You picked it up gently and went back downstairs, probably going to tell Mrs.Hudson that you were allowed to keep the cat.   
  
Sherlock wasn't quite sure what was going to be in store with having a cat living in his flat, but he knew it was going to make you happy and since you never asked for a lot, he might as well let you have this small want. He knew you would build a strong fondness for that cat and he would hope it would be like his relationship with Redbeard. At least cats live longer than dogs...


	6. Mistletoe ( Sherlock Holmes x Reader )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): None.  
> Title: Mistletoe   
> Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader  
> Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)  
> Word Count: 1,063

You walked up the steps that led to flat 221B. That flat held two of your closest friends, Sherlock Holmes and his doctor, John Watson. They were planning on having a Christmas party tonight and they had asked for you to come over early and help. Neither of them had good taste when it came to decorating. So, they decided to call you up and ask for help. They believed that you would be able to give the apartment a nice touch that it needed for the party. You always seemed to have a good sense of style. Well, at least John said that whenever you wore something nice. Sherlock didn't seem to notice what you were wearing. If someone asked him what you were wearing, he wouldn't be able to remember if it was a dress or a burlap sack. At least that was what you thought.  
  


 You were close to them, helping them with some of their cases. You were a crime-scene photographer; that was how you knew the two of them. In the beginning, they didn't seem to notice you. John would say a polite hello. Sherlock would only let out a little grunt if you were lucky. After you started to make small deductions of your own, that was when they started to notice you. You were quite intelligent compared to the regular mind. It wasn't fair to compare yourself to either of the Holmes brothers. They had brains that were beyond compare.  
  


You got up the top of the steps, turning to face the wood door. You knocked on the door, waiting for someone to answer. You could hear someone shuffling around on the other side and muffled voices before the door opened. A man was standing there, tall with curly black hair. This was the famous Sherlock Holmes. This also was the man that your heart.  
  


"Hey, Sherlock, ready for the party?" You asked, walking into the flat as he made room for you. You could hear someone moving around in the kitchen. You assumed it was John since  Mrs.Hudson was downstairs in her own flat.  
  


"Not really. I didn't want to have this party anyway." He groaned as he let you in. He obviously wasn't happy about having this party.  He wasn't the most social person that you knew. Sherlock wasn't excited to participate in the celebration, but he was going to deal with it for you and John. He knew John wanted to have the party and that you would enjoy it. Sometimes he wasn't an unemotional robot.   
  


"Don't worry, it won't be long. It will be over before you know it." You looked back at him as he shut the door. He walked over toward a few boxes that held Christmas decorations in them. You followed him, looking into the box. It was the normal type of decorations that you would assume to see in any household that decorated. It should be easy to make the house look nice using these decorations that you were provided with.   
  


You began to hang things off of the mantle, humming a Christmas song that you had heard on the radio earlier. Sherlock watched you, studying your every movement. He noted how you walked. It was like the walk of a dancer. You were light on your feet as if you were trying not to make any sound. It was graceful. Sherlock continued to watch you, making small notes about you. You tended to favor your left leg, maybe from an injury or just out of habit. He questioned himself, trying to figure out why he was noticing these small things about you. It wasn't like he was trying to figure a specific thing about you. It didn't make sense. He tried to focus on other things but his mind kept wandering back to you.   
  


"Hey, Sherlock, can you help me with something?" You turned to look at the taller man who seemed to be lost in thought. He shook his head before walking over to you.   
  


"I can't hang this up. Can you do it?" You asked, offering him the mistletoe that you were holding.  
  


"Of course." Sherlock nodded and looked up, hanging the mistletoe. He noted how short you were compared to him. You were close to the same height as John. He looked down at you to see you smiling up at him.  
  


"Thank you, Mr.Holmes." You said jokingly.   
  


"Oh, what do we have here? You two are under the mistletoe." John said, leaning against the wall by the kitchen. Sherlock groaned, wondering why John had to come out at this time. The older man must have been listening. He seemed to always be paying close attention when you and Sherlock were in the same room together.

 

"Yes, John. What are you getting at?" Sherlock looked at John with a bored look on his face.   
  


"Well, you two have to kiss." John smiled.  
  


"We do not have to-" Sherlock began.  
  


"Come on, it is a tradition. It will be fun. Don't tell me I scare you, huh?" You joked, trying to make Sherlock feel more comfortable. He seemed to be nervous and tense. Were you making him uncomfortable? You should stop talking. He probably would hate to do something like this. He didn't seem like someone who would like to kiss someone that he didn't care about. He didn't even seem to be a person who would kiss someone that he liked. You wondered if he even felt the emotion of romantic love.  
  


"You don't have to. I was just teasing-" You started but were cut off by Sherlock leaning down and kissing you gently. It wasn't an in-depth kiss or a hard kiss. It was just a simple peck on the lip. Still, it caused your heart to beat hard. You had never imagined that this would ever happen. Just as you were about to kiss him back, he pulled away.  
  


"Aw..." John chuckled before going back into the kitchen to finish what he was doing.   
  


"Merry Christmas, (Y/N)," Sherlock said, clearing his throat. If you weren't mistaken, you thought that you saw a light blush on his cheeks.   
  


"Merry Christmas, Sherlock." You giggled and went back to decorating the flat. You couldn't wait for the party. You were secretly hoping that you would be under the mistletoe again with Sherlock. 

                                                          


	7. Bedtime ( John Watson x Child!Reader )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Art trade.  
> Title: Bedtime  
> Pairing: John Watson x Child!Reader (Family)  
> Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)  
> Word Count: 1,052

  
  


 

 

    No matter what he did, John couldn't get you to sleep. You just refused to relax enough for you to be able to fall asleep. You said you weren't tired, but that was a lie. You were definitely tired, but you tried to hide that from the man. You didn't want to be tired and so you were doing everything you could to keep yourself from feeling it. No sleep for you, that was your motto at the moment. 

    In reality, it wasn't that you didn't want to go to sleep. You wanted to spend some more time with John. If you went to sleep, you wouldn't be able to spend time with him. So, you were going to try and stay awake as long as you could. You were doing everything in your little kid power to keep yourself awake. You didn't care what it was, all you wanted was to stay away. 

    At the moment you were bouncing on your bed, hair bouncing up and down with you. You giggled as you watched John pull a chair over to the edge of your bed. He let it go and sat down on it, staring at your bouncing form. You just smiled at him, feeling proud and not bad about your actions. You hadn't gotten to that point yet in your life where you really understood what empathy and sympathy was. Plus, it didn't help that you were also being raised by Sherlock, who also didn't understand empathy and sympathy. 

    "What are you doing?" John asked, a small smile on his face. He was getting tired but he didn't want to get angry at you. He wanted to try his hardest to keep his temper in check. It was getting harder as more time passed, as he was getting more and more tired. He just didn't want to snap at you due to his tired state. He was going to try to get you to go to bed before that could happen.  

    John had read you multiple stories and sang you lullabies, but nothing was working. Normally, after a second story or third lullaby, you would be asleep. But, that wasn't how it was tonight. After every story, he looked down to see your eyes wide and staring up at him. You obviously weren't going to fall asleep with him just reading to you. 

    "Having fun." 

    "Don't you know that it is time to go to bed?" He asked. 

    "But, I don't want to go to bed," You pouted, stopping your bouncing. You looked up at him with one of the most pitiful looks that he had ever seen. He didn't want to upset you, but in reality, you really needed to go to bed. Plus, he needed to go to bed as well. Sleep was a necessity, especially when he had to deal with Sherlock. If he didn't get enough sleep, he wouldn't be able to deal with Sherlock. 

    "How come you don't want to go to bed?" John asked, wondering if you were having nightmares and were too scared to go to bed.

    "I don't want to leave you..." You mumbled, tears forming in your little eyes. 

    John's eyes widened as that wasn't the answer that he was expecting. Still, he quickly shook his head and got out of the shock of the initial response. He was able to go back into paternal mode. He couldn't show how confused and shocked he was at what you said. If you saw him look like that, then you might get even more simple. He needed to look calm for you so you wouldn't freak out.         
      
    "You aren't leaving me. You are just going to bed. I'll see you in the morning, you know that." He said, slowly moving so he was sitting on the bed and not the chair anymore. You quickly curled up in his arms, snuggling up as close as you could. Tears had begun to spill down your face since you were both sad and tired. Being tired never helped with emotions. It always made everything worse.

    "I-I know, but I don't want you to go for that long. Sometimes when I wake up, you aren't here...Mrs.Hudson is the one watching over me," You whimpered out, looking up at him with watery eyes. John felt terrible and didn't want to leave you now if this was the reaction he was getting from you. Normally you were fine with going to bed, so he decided you either must have just had a bad day or you had thought of something that dealt with him and was scared to leave him.

    "What would make you feel better? How will you be able to go to sleep tonight?" He asked, ready to do anything to make you feel better. He hated when you were sad and would do anything to make you go back to the happy little kid he was used to.  

    "Will you sleep with me tonight?" You asked. And even though your bed was tiny and obviously wouldn't be comfortable for John, he didn't care. None of that mattered. He wanted to make you feel better and so he would get into the small bed with you and curl up around you, in an attempt to both comfort you while also trying to be comfortable in the bed. 

    "Okay..I'll do that." That was what he did too. He laid down with you in his arms and pet your hair slowly. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep,  a tiny smile on your tear stained face. It took John a bit longer to fall asleep, but after a while, he was sleeping as well. His body would ache in the morning, but he didn't care. None of that mattered if his little girl was scared to go to bed because her daddy wasn't there. 

    John didn't think about Sherlock walking in on the two of you in the morning. That didn't matter, even though Sherlock wouldn't understand why he would do that. Still, one day he would. It would just take him longer than John to get/understand the paternal feelings that he felt for you. But, in time, you would have two dads who would lay down and sleep in your bed if you asked them.


	8. Alone you Breathe ( Sherlock Holmes x Reader ) NEW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): Suicide.   
> Song: Alone you Breathe by Savatage.
> 
> It has been three years since I wrote my first story and since I joined. This was my first story. I have re-written it to fit more of my style now.   
> This is very emotional for me because while the song is also very emotional, Deviantart has helped me through so much. I don't know what I would be without it, or you guys in my life. I am really thankful. Please know if you need anything, I am here to help. You've helped me so much and I want to help you guys as well.   
> ....  
> I'm not crying! I-I just have something in my eye!
> 
> Title: Alone you Breathe  
> Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader  
> Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)  
> Word Count: 5,029

****  
  


_You were never one for waiting_

_Still, I always thought you'd wait for me_

_Have you from your dream awakened_

_And from where you are what do you see_

   Two years had passed since Sherlock had gone missing. While others may have thought he was dead, the only one who truly knew what the situation was was Mycroft. Everyone else was mourning over the loss they had in their hearts. The one and only Sherlock Holmes was dead and they would never see him again. They all thought that part of their life was finished, including you. 

    You had taken his death the hardest, even harder than John. Sherlock and you had a different relationship than he had with John. John was Sherlock's best friend. You, well you were the person that Sherlock had planned to marry one day, even if he had never even spoken to you about being in a romantic relationship. The two of you just knew and understood what you were to each other. You didn't need to spell it out for each other. Sherlock didn't fully understand what it was like to deal with feelings like this. You were just allowing him to express it in the ways that he felt comfortable. 

    So, when he was taken from you, it hit you really hard. Before you had met John and Sherlock, you had been in a terrible place. You self-harmed, you thought of suicide. Hell, you even attempted it once. It was months before they found out about that side of you. You were an expert at hiding it, including from Sherlock. It was strange for him to find someone who could hide things from him as well as you could. 

    On the surface, you looked like any person dealing with grief. You didn't let John see the pain that you were going through. He was already dealing with so much that he didn't need to add you to his plate of problems. You would never do that to the older man. You loved him much like one loves their brother. You wouldn't allow yourself to make him hurt more than he was. You were only your own problem. You had to deal with these emotions on your own. You didn't know where they would take you, but you had a hunch. You could see the ending to the play where you were the main character. You knew where this was going. You had already accepted the end.

_Which of us is now in exile_

_Which in need of amnesty_

_Are you now but an illusion_

_In my mind alone you breathe_

__  
When Sherlock had learned what you had done from John, he was shocked. How did he not know what was going on? If he knew that you had been as depressed as you were, he would have come back sooner. Mycroft would have to of dealt with that. Mycroft...He must have kept it from his brother because he knew it would affect him too much. Sherlock needed to have some strong words with his brother. This was all his fault. Mycroft and Moriarty were the reasons you were dead.

    As well as Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock was the reason you were dead. He never wanted that to be the case. He was always worried about you being in danger because you were close to him and that someone else may harm you. He never began to think that he could be the reason that you were dead. He never thought it, yet here it was. This was reality, whether he wanted to accept it or not. It really wasn't his choice. You were dead, that was it. There was no way to fix the terrible mistake he had made. 

    "I don't understand..." Sherlock mumbled out, his deep voice echoing through the strangely empty apartment. Was it because your large personality wasn't here anymore? 

    "Wow, for once, the great Sherlock Holmes doesn't understand! She killed herself, Sherlock. She couldn't deal with you being dead so she took her own life. She thought you were dead, we all thought that! Why couldn't you have just told us?!" John was crying. It wasn't sobbing. Instead, it was the silent type of crying where the person doesn't make any sound but instead, silent tears stream down their face. 

    "Where is she buried?" Sherlock asked, ignoring most of what the other man was saying. It didn't matter, not now. 

_You believed in things that I will never know_

_You were out there drowning but it never showed_

'Til inside a rain-swept _night you just let go_

Sherlock stood in front of your grave, hands clasped behind his back. He felt as though he had been standing there for hours. Perhaps he had. He wasn't trying to keep track of the time. He didn't care how long he spent here. He would stay here forever if that was what he wanted to do. He needed time alone to deal with this pain that had made its home in his chest. He couldn't remember ever feeling this emotion before. What was it? 

    Sadness. Deep and raw sadness. 

    His large hand rested on your gravestone, knowing that this would be as close as he would ever be able to be able to touch you again. He began to wonder if there was such a thing as Heaven or if you were now nothing more a corpse in a box, your personality turning into an illusion that lived in his head? He wanted to believe that it was the first one. You deserved to be in Heaven if anyone ever did. You were so pure, so kind, so healthy for Sherlock. He never deserved you in his life. You were too good for him and everyone, including him, knew it. 

    You had believed in such strange things that he had thought were foolish, all because they made you happy. Catching and freeing ladybugs that were stuck in the house because you believed it granted wishes. Leaving cookies out on Christmas Eve for 'Santa' to have. Finding a four leaf clover and giving it to Sherlock because he could use all the luck he could get. 

    You knew those things were nothing more than fantasy, but you said that you did them because they made you feel happy. Small actions brought joy to your life. You always said why not do things that make you happy. You had been sad all your life that you were going to be a free-spirit and kind now, one who may not believe in superstitions but still performs them because they are fun. 

    How could Sherlock ever forgive himself for killing someone so pure and loving? 

_You're thrown it all away_

_And now we'll never see_

_The ending of the play_

_The grand design_

_The final line_

_And what was meant to be_

   The night that you had died was a rainy one. John had been out for some errands and said he would be back in a few hours. Mrs.Hudson had already gone to bed. Without truly thinking it over, you realized that today was going to be the day you died. It was the perfect time. No one could stop you. No one would see you until it was already too late.   
      
    Once everything was ready, you decided it was time. You changed into a nice dress and laid down on your bed. The pill bottle was beside you, filled with little blue pills that Sherlock had used to get high. He only ever took one, so you knew how powerful they were. You had kept them when they were cleaning out Sherlock's room. You made sure no one saw that you took them. They didn't need to try to take them from you. You needed them. 

    You had also kept a scarf of Sherlock's, one of his many deep blue ones. As the many pills went down your throat, you held onto the scarf as a comfort. You weren't scared of dying. You were nervous, you were anxious, but you did not fear death. You were used to seeing death. Sherlock's life revolved around death. In your mind, you were lucky. You were in control of your death. You wouldn't be killed like some of the victims, not ready to die and terrified. Unlike them, you had accepted your death. You were ready. 

    As you began to fade off, a tightening feeling coming from both your lungs and heart, you made sure to hold the scarf close to you. Tears were streaming down your face due to pain, but you just kept reminding yourself that it would all be over soon. It wouldn't be much longer now. You would be together again soon. And if Heaven wasn't real, you would be granted the gift of not having to live in a world where Sherlock did not exist. You would be gone and put out of the misery that would be your life. 

    John found you hours later. One look at your body, dressed up, laying in bed with Sherlock's scarf held in a death grip; he knew what had happened. He could tell with just one look.   
    

_In the dark a distant runner_

_Now has disappeared into the night_

_Leaving us to stand and wonder_

Staring _from this end into your life_

It was hard for everyone to accept that you were dead. They all were trying to deal with Sherlock's suicide and now they had yours to deal with as well. The grief was overwhelming. Certain people were not shocked that you had decided to take your life, though that did not make their grief any easier to deal with. It hurt. It hurt them all terribly. 

    Mycroft went to your funeral. No one knew how to talk to him. How was he dealing with his grief? He hadn't even gone to his own brother's funeral but here he was, for you? Why? They could see the deep grief hidden behind his eyes. His emotionless eyes were now home to sadness and what looked to be guilt. Many tried to comfort him, but he just brushed them off with a wave of his hand. He did not want to deal with their pity or sadness. He was having enough trouble with his own. 

    What they didn't know was how Mycroft was truly feeling. He felt a deep sadness in the pit of his stomach, knowing that what was going on was terrible. Sherlock was not dead yet he could not tell anyone. The unknowing of the truth had led you to do this. Mycroft knew he should have just told you, but it would be too dangerous. You and John both needed to believe he was dead more than anyone. The three of you were so close to if you knew he was alive, it could have ruined everything. 

__  
He couldn't tell Sherlock what had occurred. If he knew, it would ruin the plan altogether. It was too late now for anyone to do anything, so Mycroft decided it would be best to just hide this information. Sherlock deserved to know but if he did, then everything that they had done to keep this plan going would be shoved down the drain. Mycroft was already seen as the devil to many. He would just have to add keeping your death from his younger brother one of the many sins that rested on his pile of guilt.

    He truly did care about the situation at hand. He felt terrible. But, he would not allow his emotions to control him. He knew that what was done was done and that there was nothing he could do about it. But, that didn't make the guilt any easier to deal with. 

_You believed in things that I will never know_

_You were out there drowning but it never showed_

_'Til inside a rain swept night you just let go_

__  
It began to rain down hard at the graveyard. It felt nice to Sherlock, the cold forced him to be uncomfortable. He wanted to suffer, he deserved to. He deserved all the terrible things that were going to happen to him to occur. He deserved this and so much more. He had caused your death, the worst thing he could think of doing. He needed to be punished.

    Sherlock slowly moved and sat down on the now wet ground, not caring what his clothes would look like when he stood up. The rain felt nice on his face, hiding his tears that were rolling down his cheeks. He never cried. Never. But now, he couldn't stop himself. All the tears that hadn't been shed for years and years all came out now. All the emotions poured out of him like water flowing out of a dam that had broken. Sherlock felt like the dam, broken deep down. He was a failure. He was broken. He was a villain in this story.

    He allowed himself to sob. He let it all out. He didn't care if anyone saw him. Let them stare. Let them judge him. He could care less. All he cared about was you and now you were no longer in his life. You were gone and it was all his fault. 

    He felt angry at everyone for letting this happen, including John Watson. He blamed them all for your death. How could they not have seen you drowning? None of them threw out a rescue rope or a ring buoy to save you. None of them tried! He groaned as he rested his forehead on your tombstone, the cold stone feeling nice against his hot face. He felt hot and disgusting from all the crying. He wanted to be as close as he could to you. He wanted, no needed you to be here to comfort him. He couldn't go one without you. He could barely live when he didn't know you and you weren't a part of his life. How could he live when he knew what his life could have been like but will never be now? 

    Sherlock knew the truth. The only person he should blame about what had happened was him. It was all his fault. It was all the smart and clever detective, Sherlock Holmes' fault.    
    

_You've thrown it all away_

_And now we'll never see_

_The ending of the play_

_The grand design_

_The final line_

_And what was meant to be_

   "How could you do this to me?" Sherlock croaked out, having trouble getting the words out. He was expecting you to respond in that beautiful voice of yours. You would be there to comfort him and promise him that everything would fine. Yet, that would never happen ever again. His life would never be the same now that you weren't a part of it. 

    "I thought we were going to be together forever! This isn't forever, (Y/N)! I know I hurt you, I know this is all my fault. I'm sorry, okay? Do you hear me? I'm sorry! Please, I just want you back. I can't live without you here. Life is going to be Hell. Anything without you will be hell," His voice got louder and louder, and before he knew it, he was shouting. His voice cracked every now and again due to him crying. He was letting all of his emotions out and targeting them at the gravestone that represented you and would for forever. 

    "I'll never be able to see the ending of the play that was the two of us. I thought you would wait for me. I never thought I would be the one that would outlive the other. I guess you didn't see it that way, huh? I'm sorry...I'm so, so, sorry," The last words he said came out as more of a whimper than anything. He was holding onto the tombstone as if it was his only small sliver of comfort in this world. It was. 

    Sherlock tried to focus on the rain that was running over him, soaking him to the bone. Was the sky crying for his loss as well? 

    "See, everyone including the sky is unable to deal with the grief that comes with learning you will never return..." He whispered, his finger running over your name that was carved into the dark stone. 

_And if this is all illusion_

_Nothing more than pure delusion_

_Clinging to a fading fantasy_

   It wasn't a hard decision for you to decide that you were going to take your life. You had been through these feelings before, the idea that life would never be the same again. Before, when you were feeling like this, you were saved by Sherlock Holmes. He never knew that he had saved you from yourself, but he had. He had saved you and showed you that life, at least life with him in it, was worth living. Now he was gone and you knew he would never be coming back. He was dead. There was no one to save you this time. 

    And did you really want to be saved? While you were slightly scared to think that life would fully be over, you decided that you would rather be dead than live a long, miserable life where Sherlock wasn't in it. He meant so much to you. You wondered if he knew how much he meant to you. You hoped he did. You would hate for him to have died without knowing how much you really cared for him. you thought he knew, but with him, it was hard to tell what he knew and what he didn't know or understand. 

    Before taking the pills, you made sure to write out a note for the others when you were gone. You wanted to make sure that they knew there was nothing they could do and that none of this was their fault. You wrote down everything, from your past with struggling with depression to how Sherlock had saved you. You wanted them to know everything. You would hate to make them feel terrible about your death, left with questions that would never be answered. 

    So, you made sure you answered any questions that you thought that they may have had. You may have left some out, but you tried your best. You hoped that they would be able to see that. You hoped that your death wouldn't affect them too badly. You explained how you knew you were being selfish, but as John said, sometimes it was good to be selfish. You can't be self-sacrificing all the time. Sometimes you had to do things just for you. 

    He never meant it in this way. But to you, his words hit home and you realized that he was right. You were allowed to be selfish. 

_Like Icarus who heeds the calling_

_Of a sun but now is falling_

_As the feathers of his life fall free_

_Can you see_

_See_

_Tomorrow_

_And after_

_You tell me what am I to do_

_I stand here_

_Believing_

_That in the dark_

_There is a clue_

   Sherlock didn't know how he was going to continue on without you in his life. He hated to think that but knew it was true. This must have been how you were feeling when you believed that he was dead. He wondered if you were looking down at him, shaking your head in anger. No, even if he thought you deserved to be angry, he knew that you wouldn't be. You never got truly angry at him. Annoyed, yes, but never angry. 

    Instead, you would be looking down at him, shaking your head as you let out a melodic, breathy chuckle. You would be thinking about how foolish you were to kill yourself and how ironic the situation was. He knew you would have some quotes to tell him. Probably from Romeo and Juliet, or something in that nature. You loved to give him quotes from old plays that you loved to read. You were enchanted by those things. 

    But, you weren't doing any of those things because you were dead. No more were you allowed to do anything to show him how much you still cared or try to comfort him in one way or another. It was over. You were gone and he couldn't keep trying to make himself better by thinking of you in this way. He was just trying to keep himself from feeling the full force of guilt again. 

    He was keeping it at bay. He was scared to try to take it all on. He was already hurting so much without it. How could he deal with everything if the grief hit him? He needed you here. He needed help. 

    Sherlock Holmes needed help.

    "I can't do this alone, (Y/N). I can't live without you," He cried out. He never sounded like this. It was pathetic, but he allowed himself to sound like that. He could at least give himself that.

_Perhaps inside_

_This midnight sky_

_Perhaps tomorrow's new born eyes_

_Or could it be_

_We'll never know_

_And after all_

_This was the show_

_What am I to do_

   "Dear, I know it can be hard..." A voice filled with age and sadness said from behind him. He looked behind him, not moving from where he was sitting on the ground like a pitiful child. He knew his old self wouldn't have wanted to be seen like this, but he didn't care anymore. He felt as though he had given up with everything. Nothing mattered to him anymore. 

    Standing there was a hunched over the old lady, wearing a deep muted red dress. She looked like she had been through so much in her life. Pity filled her eyes, wrinkling down to show her emotions. In her hands were a few flowers of different colors. Sherlock could tell some things about her, such as her being a widow, but it wasn't like normal. He couldn't figure out her story like normal. It wasn't the lady. She wasn't trying to hide anything from him. It was because of you. Sherlock just couldn't focus on deducing. 

    She walked over to him and without him asking or saying anything, she sat down on the ground next to him. Her legs would be muddy, just like Sherlock's pants, but she didn't seem to mind. She had an umbrella that was covering her and she moved it so it covered the two of them. She was being so kind to him. He wondered if you would have been like this if you would have been able to age. He would have loved to grow old with you. He always thought he would die young but once he met you, his plans changed. He rethought it and began to hope to grow old with you. Those thoughts came to him and another pang hit him in the chest. That would never happen now...

    "May I ask, dear, who are you visiting?" The kind voice asked, looking at the tombstone that Sherlock had been hanging onto just moments ago. He had moved to sit up straighter now, though he still knew he didn't look proper. He must have looked pitiful, so pitiful that this old lady would stop to talk to him. He never understood people...Why was she doing this?

_Gotta get back_

_Gotta get back_

_Gotta get back_

_What am I to do_

_Gotta get back_

_Gotta get back_

_Gotta get back_

_What am I to do_

   Without thinking, he began to tell the old woman everything. He told her his entire story that revolved around you. How the two of you met, the relationship the two of you had together, everything with Moriarty, him faking his suicide, to this exact day where he learned that you had taken his life. He sobbed during certain parts but the older woman comforted him, making sure he knew that he could take as much time as he wanted. She had nowhere to be and she was happy to listen to his story, as much as he wanted to tell her. 

    So, he told her everything and she listened to it all with kind eyes and a comforting smile on her face. Sherlock couldn't understand why she was doing this. She was like an angel. She reminded him so much of you. He wondered if this was some kind of sign. Had you sent this old woman to comfort him? He would have never thought like that before, but with all of this grief and guilt washing over him, he wanted to believe in impossible (improbable in his mind) things. You would have been shocked to hear him thinking like this. Would you have been proud? 

    "Dear, I know it can be hard to lose someone who means so much to you," The old woman said once he had finished telling her his story, "I lost the love of my life when I was young. He died fighting in World War Two. He was twenty-three. I was filled with grief over his death, as anyone would. I never thought I could continue living on without him. I had nothing to remind me of him, including no children. He was gone. All I had was his tombstone...." 

    "But, what made me continue to live on was that I know he would not have wanted me to wallow in my grief. He would want me to go and live my life and have a good one. He would be waiting for me when I died when it was my time. I believe (Y/N) would want you to do the same thing. She would not want you to do as she did. You will meet once again after time has passed. You will not be apart forever, I promise." Her wrinkled hand rested on his own large one.  It felt nice, like a motherly feeling. 

_Standing on a dream_

_Isn't what it seems_

_Could we then reclaim a dream refused_

_Knowing what we know_

_Could we let it go_

_Realizing that all the years are used_

   "We are blessed with life and we should not waste it, no matter what happens. You will not forget her and she will not forget her. You can continue to visit her here. I visit my husband every Sunday with flowers," The old woman gestured to the flowers that she was holding. She looked down and picked out a beautiful white lily, slowly setting it down in front of your grave. There were already a lot of flowers surrounding it, but it was different from them. The single flower felt more personal, felt as if more love was behind it. 

    "You visit him every Sunday?" Sherlock asked, looking at the woman. 

    "I do. The only time I do not visit is when I am sick, but he understands. I tell him about my life and everything that had happened since he has been gone. I know he is there, even if he can not talk back to me. He is there, listening to what I am telling him. I have learned how to deal with the grief that his death gave me, by visiting his grave and speaking. I still grieve, but it is different. A bittersweet grief, if you will." The old woman pointed over to a grave that was a few feet away, obviously saying that it was her husband's grave. 

    "Every Sunday..." Sherlock repeated, glancing at the other grave before looking back at yours, "And it helps?" 

_Tomorrow and after_

_You tell me what am I to do_

_I stand here believing_

_That in the dark there is a clue_

_I am the way_

_I am the light_

_I am the dark inside the night_

_I hear your hopes_

_I feel your dreams_

_And in the dark, I hear your screams_

__  
"Yes, it helps very much. I keep the relationship alive between the two of us and I do not feel so alone in this world when I visit him. Of course, I mourn that I will never hear his voice until my death, but visiting his grave does help me realize that I will see him again one day. I do not allow his death to control me. Instead, I honor his death by living a good life, or as good of a life as I can."

    "I bet you live a very good life, Ma'am." Sherlock felt the pit in his stomach begin to fade. It still was there. If he wanted to find it, he could look and grab it. But, it wasn't there if he didn't want it. He didn't feel as bad. He rubbed his tears away, putting his more formal expression back on his face. He no longer looked like the pitiful man from moments ago. He looked like a man in grief, but one who was learning to control it. 

    "Would you mind if I begin to join you on your trips here on Sundays?" Sherlock continued, standing up and helping the woman get up as well. 

    "Oh no dear, I would be more than happy to have the company," She said in her aged voice, the smile that never vanished resting on her face. Sherlock nodded, grabbing her umbrella and holding it for her while offering his free arm for her to grasp. The two began to walk away, Sherlock helping her walk on the muddy ground. It was peaceful. 

    As Sherlock began to walk the woman home, he started to come to terms with what had happened. He still hurt, he would always hurt when he thought about you. But, he now knew that while you didn't wait for him, that was okay. You will be watching him and he would visit your grave to tell you everything that has happened in that week. He would not be separated from you forever. You two would meet again, in another time, in another place. 

_Tomorrow and after_

_You tell me what am I to do_

_I stand here believing_

_That in the dark there is a clue_


	9. A is for Amber ( Jim Moriarty x Reader )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning(s): This fic is super old and just sitting in my sta.sh. It was not finished and still when I began to write it, I had planned to do the entire song. Oh well! 
> 
>  
> 
> It is a bit gory (Tee hee~!) and it has spoilers for Sherlock, Season Three, Episode Three.
> 
>  
> 
> (A/N: This fanfiction is based on the song A Gorey Demise by Creature Feature.)  
> Title: A Is For Amber   
> Pairing: James Moriarty x Reader   
> Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)  
> Word Count: 863

****

****

 

**Warning(s):**   This fic is super old and just sitting in my sta.sh. It was not finished and still when I began to write it,  I had planned to do the entire song. Oh well! 

 

It is a bit  _gory_ (Tee hee~!) and it has spoilers for Sherlock, Season Three, Episode Three.

 

**(A/N: This fanfiction is based on the song A Gorey Demise by Creature Feature.)**  
 **Title:**  A Is For Amber   
 **Pairing:** James Moriarty x Reader   
 **Fandom:** Sherlock (BBC)  
 **Word Count:  **863

 

 

_Alright, everybody sit down, quiet down, listen up.  
_

_I brought you all here to recite the annual obituaries._

_Like we'll start with A and end with Z._

_Alright, is the band ready?_

_Ready._

_Alright, hit it, Boyles._

_One, and a two_

  
    Jim Moriarty never thought that he would ever find someone that would challenge him in life and always keep him on his toes. That was until he met you. One day, when he was planning a crime with Sebastian at a random park, you had walked over and sat down beside the two of them. Sebastian was ready to threaten you when Jim made him stop. He had used his charm to talk to you and somehow, the two of you had found out that both of you loved to commit crimes. You were almost as deliciously evil as he was.

    At first, the two of you would only talk to each other about the crimes that you were going to commit or you already commit, but then one day Jim asked you to come and help with one of his easier crimes. You accepted, of course, and that was the first thing that leads up to you helping him to try to destroy/kill Sherlock Holmes. You didn't hate him as much as Jim did, but you did hate him. You really only hated him because Jim hated him. It was a slight Joker/Harley Quinn kind of relationship. Well, sort off. You were crazy before you met him so you and Harley Quinn were different in that way.

    After a few months of doing crimes together, the two of you began to have a romantic relationship. It wasn't really romantic at first though, really just the two of you living together and saying that it was a romantic relationship. After time though, you two had begun to actually feel something for each other. You began to give him quick pecks on the lips and he would bring you home gifts every now and again. Sometimes they would be normal like flowers while other times it would be a souvenir that he took from his latest crime scene. Once he brought you that man's jacket who died, which you had hung up in the closet that the two of you shared. Most people would find that disturbing and would try to get help, but you thought it was a very endearing gift.

    An example of how much the two of your relationship had grown over the years would be to look at Sebastian. At first, he was very rude to you, not really caring what you would say or if he ever made you mad. He just thought that you were a girl who was trying to impress a man who had a higher status than yourself. He does things like if you ever called, he wouldn't tell Jim your message or he would criticize your work on whatever crime you just committed. He really was a jerk to you.

    When you started dating Jim though, he began to change how he acted around you. He wouldn't say anything bad about what you did or just about you. He would sometimes bring you things that you had asked for and he even began to act nicer to you. You thought that it was probably because Jim had told him that if he didn't that he would have him skinned and would feed the rest of his body to the stray dogs that wandered the streets.

_A is for Amber who drowned in a pool_

_B is for Billy who was eaten by ghouls_

_C is for Curt with disease in the brain_

_D is for Daniel derailed on a train_

_E is for Eric who is buried alive_

_F is for Frank was stabbed through the eye_

_G is for Greg who died in the womb_

_H is for Heather who was sealed in a tomb_

  
    It had been about five years since you and Jim had begun to be in a romantic relationship. On the second year of the two of you being together, you had found out that you were pregnant with twins. You were worried that Moriarty might not be happy that you were pregnant, but after he found out he reacted in a way you didn't believe that he. He was ecstatic that you were pregnant (though he didn't know it was twins).

    He began to baby you and spoil you to his heart's content. He always made sure he was with you when he wasn't planning some horrible crime to try to draw Sherlock Holmes closer and closer to Moriarty's big trap for him. It was a bit rather odd that he was being so nice but you knew that he really and truly loved you. Well, as much as his evil black heart was able to love.  
 

_One by one we bite the dust_

_Kick the bucket and begin to rust_

_Give up the ghost when your number's up_

_We all fall down_

_Ashes to ashes, bones to paste_

_You wither away in your resting place_

_Eternity in a wooden case_

_We all fall down_


End file.
